


Playing with Fire

by SilyaBeeodess



Series: Tales of the Fire Spirits [4]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22417033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilyaBeeodess/pseuds/SilyaBeeodess
Summary: Wandering alone through a long abandoned part of Subcon Forest, a young minion defends himself against an eager fire spirit longing to take him to its domain.
Series: Tales of the Fire Spirits [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613302
Kudos: 38





	Playing with Fire

How old was he now? Twelve? Some of the other spirits assured him he was close to that age, but there were times when it seemed that he hadn't aged a day—that everything stopped the instant the cursed ice had rapidly caught his feet and encased his body—and others when he felt much, _much_ older. Time passed too slowly for his liking and there was little that happened to hurry it onward.

Few people journeyed through the forest anymore, so there was hardly anyone new. They no longer required the basic necessities that were the daily aspects of their former lives, so typical chores like cooking or cleaning were, overall, pointless. The sun hid itself away long ago, so they couldn't even _watch_ time pass as they once did. At large, all they had were the tasks—which more often than not felt like busy work—given to them by their 'boss' to pass the hours.

Their boss was a menacing, if charismatic, shadow-like specter that outsiders had begun to refer to as 'The Snatcher,' the soul thief. The massacre of their home, the ice that continuously fought to expand across Subcon, and the miasma that clung to the forest ever since were more than enough to keep most travelers away; however, if they weren't, his terrifying presence was. He had shown up out of nowhere a few months after their village was destroyed, claiming that Subcon was under 'new management.' _His_ management.

At the time, not one of the Dwellers trusted him. They had suffered too much and he was just another horror that had invaded their lives. Queen Vanessa had lost her mind and was responsible for the full devastation of the land. The rulers of the neighboring territory—which had faced almost equal destruction—were either dead or had abandoned them and even their young prince, the queen's lover, had vanished without a trace. Many of them had been separated from their families, brother from sister and parents from children, as some had moved on to the spiritual plane while they remained trapped in the mortal world.

But Snatcher was nothing like the other lost souls that lingered in Subcon. None of them had a sliver of the magic he wielded and they didn't stand a chance against him. Some didn't even want to: Self-proclaimed ruler of the forest or no, he kept them safe from trespassers or other malevolent spirits that were attracted to the land's mystical energies.

More importantly, he had given them new bodies so they could interact with the world similar to how they once did. It was a right only given to those who swore over their loyalty, signing the contracts that bound them under his service for all eternity. However, for many—himself included—that tradeoff was worth everything. There were times that Snatcher pushed them beyond their limitations, but they were rare and most of the work focused on rebuilding some semblance of the home they had lost. He actually made them believe that there was hope enough to carry on.

Sometimes though, it was hard to move forward. The small minion glanced over his shoulder to make sure that he hadn't been followed, then continued his steady, silent march through the woods. Just like their frozen village, this section of the Subcon had been abandoned. Queen Vanessa's storm hadn't marred it to the same extreme as the latter—its close proximity to the fire spirits' domain likely had something to do with that—but she had still left her frigid mark on the place. The buildings and towers of dark, clean-cut stone that the area had been known for all laid in ruin, quickly taken over by the forest undergrowth after the first thaws.

While many of the people who had lived there had managed to escape the frost—the storm reaching them last—none of them had returned. He didn't blame them: There wasn't anything worth saving and even if there was it just brought back too many bad memories. Still, it was a nice, quiet place when he wanted to get away and he didn't have a personal enough attachment there as he did with the village to cause him any pain.

It was the perfect spot for hiding things too.

Nearing the tall side of a collapsed tower, the boy looked around once again before moving the top of a neat pile of fallen bricks. A fox-shaped mask was safely tucked away under them, and he braced it in his hands as if carrying a precious treasure. It had been common for the children of Subcon to wear them, as a matter of tradition and to protect them from the various spirits that lived in the forest. The masks helped them see things hidden from plain sight and confused the spirits. Now, they didn't need them. For the most part, only the Dwellers wore them in reminiscence of the past.

He had still kept his though. He remembered his momma… A stickler for the old ways, she had always been fearfully frustrated with him whenever he forgot to put on his mask before running to play outside. _Make me cry, why don't you?_ she'd say, _That's what you'll do when the fire spirits take you away from me! They love sweet, mischievous boys like you!_

He held it up, sighing at the familiar touch against his incorporeal face. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the soft caress of her hands, the scent of soap or flour on her wrists from where she was always working around the home. He was outside with his friends when the storm hit: He wasn't even with her when—! He cut the thought short and a hard lump formed in his nonexistent throat.

He missed her so much…

The sounded of a snapping twig from behind startled him out of his memories. He hastily stashed the mask back in its hiding place as though it were instinct and spun around on his feet. It took him seconds to find the source of the noise: A fire spirit sat close by, sitting beneath the thin trunk of a dead tree. It was breaking apart little twigs in its paws into bite-sized pieces, singeing them with its fingertips before popping them in its mouth. He relaxed.

Soon enough, the fire spirit noticed him too. It was just a little taller than him when it stood, possibly an adolescent. The boy backed away as it approached, but he was pinned between it and the tower. He could've ran, but honestly a part of him didn't want to. It had been a long time since he had seen a fire spirit from this close.

The creature tilted its head in equal curiosity. Although their shrinking territory meant that they crossed paths with the Dwellers and Snatcher's minions more often, the storm had spooked them off for some time. And while the warmth of their essences was familiar enough, the forms their souls now took were strange and new to the spirits. It sniffed at him, batting its ear. "You have food?" it asked in the typical, twittering voice of its kind.

Shoulders lifting in a baffled, awkward pose, the boy rapidly shook his head. He couldn't eat, so there wasn't a need to have any. But the fire spirit continued to stare at him with an imploring gaze. Right; many of the foxes had gotten "food" from the villagers before, whether because they laid it out on their doorsteps in offering or because they had stolen it. Without the villagers, they had been cut off from a significant food source and the cold probably hadn't made things any better for finding things that suited their tastes in the woods.

A groan of discomfort resonated from him and he drew his hands to his chest, looking around. Then he spotted the shape of a hearth in one of the nearby, collapsed houses. He didn't think he would find anything useful—if there was even anything still in there at all, it was probably either fine dust or rotted mush by now—but he wanted to try. Jogging the short distance, he began to search through the ruins while the fire spirit gingerly tip-toed after him, watching from a distance.

It took him a while, but he couldn't believe his luck! Much of anything pickled or canned wouldn't satisfy a fire spirit—which was good, because most all of that had shattered long ago—but eventually he found a tightly sealed, wooden box full of some kind of dried pepper. He couldn't remember what they were, but he knew he saw his momma dry something like them in the oven to use for soups. The boy hobbled back to the spirit with the box held out toward it, "It's not much, but would this work? Do you like this?"

"Like this?" it echoed, ducking to smell the container. It huffed, shaking its head at the strong, spicy scent that burst from the open top, and then made a sound almost like a twittering purr. It hurriedly reached for the peppers, the force behind it nearly enough to knock the box out of the boy's hands, "Like this! Like lots!"

He quickly handed the box over to the spirit and took a step back as it began to stuff its face. Even though he couldn't even remember the last time he tasted food, some remnant of his former life made him cringe at the sight—every bite reminding him of a distant, burning sensation. He guessed the overwhelming taste was nothing to a fire spirit though, and he shook his head in wonder.

"I thought you guys were supposed to be kind of scary," he said, "but you're pretty funny. I like you."

"Like this! Like you! Like you!" it sang with a full mouth.

The boy laughed, then turned to leave. He couldn't stay for very long at a time: If he did, _someone_ was bound to notice. While a rift had formed between them and the Dwellers, all of Snatcher's minions tried to look after one another. Besides, the boss didn't think kindly of anyone 'loafing around on the job.'

He hadn't walked very far when he heard the rush of graceful feet hurry through the grass and a warm pair of limbs cling to his own arm, yanking him back with enough force to trip him in place. " _Nooo!_ Like you, like you!" the fire spirit whined. He looked back behind them to find the box lying in the grass, spilled open with barely a crumb left inside.

"Let go of me; I have to go," he grumbled, trying to tug himself free from the creature's firm hold.

It refused to give up. "Like you, like you!" it continued to chant, as if speaking a mantra. It pulled him back, dragging him the opposite way through the woods.

Fear crept down the boy's back. He remembered the stories told at night to frighten children like him into behaving, to keep them from wandering off where they weren't supposed to be and remind them to always wear their masks as a precaution. He remembered an old winemaker that claimed to have been stolen away by the fire spirits when he was young—and said that they had let him go only on the same kind of whim that stirred them to take him in the first place. Most of all though, he remembered his mother's warnings.

He panicked, fighting with all of his might to break free. He managed it only for a second as the fox then bit his hood and pulled him over once again, this time looping its arms underneath his own. The struggle continued until he saw another, vibrant glimmer shine through the trees. Then another! More of them were coming!

He screamed. The fire spirit was pulling at him so roughly that the seam of his shoulder began to tear and a small bit of stuffing poked through. He didn't tire as he once would've, but this body of his was hardly anything more than a plush shell: He wasn't powerful enough to fully meld his ghostly essence to a physical form yet! And if this kept up… " _Somebody, help!_ "

Everything went black. For a moment, all that illuminated the void spread before them was the fire spirit's glistening fur and bright features of his own face shrouded by his robes. Then something with all the force of a bludgeon rammed into them—sending the two flying and ripping the fire spirit away from him. The boy landed a few meters away on the grass with a dull thud and the spirit scrambled elegantly on all fours as their surroundings returned to normal.

With one noticeable difference: Snatcher's towering figure loomed over them.

Once a fire spirit reached a certain stage of maturity, their bodies were practically invulnerable from most attacks and their spells could combat against both physical and spiritual forces. Only water or extreme cold could deter them, or else they had to be forced into overspending their energy. That was when they were at their strongest. They were a definite threat on equal ground, but a still somewhat young fire spirit—on its own, as the rest of its kin had quickly scurried off at the sight of the newcomer—facing off against the nigh unstoppable shadow? The odds favored Snatcher.

And it knew it. The fox still puffed itself up, its fur licked by flames, in order to pull off a bluff; however, as soon as the latter summoned the glowing marker that forewarned one of his erupting attacks, it fled, disappearing in a cloud of sparks and smoke.

The boy remained quietly where he was, clutching his shoulder, as he watched his employer stare after the spirit. Usually, the chirp of bats or chirrup of insects vibrated through the trees, but even they had fallen silent. The entire section of the forest seemed to mute itself out of intimidation of the specter. But the youth couldn't keep quiet for long, shuffling back onto his feet and muttering a timid, "T-thank you, Boss…"

Snatcher barely turned around, not even bothering to look at him at first. He continued to stare off after the long-gone fire spirit, but there was no use trying to give chase: Beyond that it was simply pointless, the fire spirits' domain lay in secret with only the eternally burning trees that encircled it giving any indicator of its location. Snatcher took a deep breath.

"If you have time to play with fire spirits," he slowly began only for his voice to soon rise to a furious shout, " _then you have time to do your job!_ " Within a split second, he stretched his lithe body across the forest floor, craning himself over the boy. "Now… Get back to the others before I torch you myself!"

"R-right away, Boss!" he stammered, already at a run before he had even checked to see where he was going, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to obey. He didn't want to upset him anymore than he already had. Nevertheless, for not the first time in his brief afterlife, he was just happy that Snatcher was on _their_ side.


End file.
